This is how I want it to go. The time we break the drought and risk it all.
We've been at a conference for a few days interstate. We're surrounded by colleagues day and night - we're all sharing a few apartments - so we're forced to behave. Every time we try to steal a moment, we're interrupted. Evening drinks are torture sessions of loaded glances and hands brushing
in crowded bar queues. I'm permanently turned on, my mind scattered and my panties damp. It's killing me, but at the same time I know nothing is going to feel as good as breaking this drought when we finally get the chance.
The chance comes on the afternoon of the final day. There's a gap in the agenda. I suggest a swim in the hotel pool, gambling on no one else wanting to join us. You agree. We both know what's going on here. We go to our own rooms to change. Alone, I pull on my smallest bikini and biggest sunglasses, positioning my tits for your viewing.
When I step out of the lift in the lobby and see you standing there, shirtless, my mouth goes dry. I have a vision of laying you down on the carpet of my hotel room and licking every square centimetre of you. My clit tingles. I sneak a glance to see if I'm having the same effect on you. There's a bulge in your swim shorts that tells me I am. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.
The pool is deserted, but overlooked by a hundred rooms. We slide into the warm water, staying a respectable metre apart. I can almost see your mind ticking over as we make small talk. Casually, you move closer. My heart pounds. You reach for me under the water, pressing your warm, hard cock against my hip briefly. You slide your hand up my naked leg and heat floods through me. You squeeze my thigh hard and groan deep in your throat.
Suddenly, a light flips on in a lower level balcony nearby. A couple emerge, looking down at us. I pull back.
"Let's go upstairs," I say. Maybe we'll get lucky.
